


Cruelty

by marmaladeSkies



Series: From Worse to Merely Bad [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, kink meme fill, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmaladeSkies/pseuds/marmaladeSkies
Summary: It’s custom in Fhirdiad for the nobility to tip their executioners. Dimitri doesn’t have any coin, though.Fill for the kink meme.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Original Male Character(s)
Series: From Worse to Merely Bad [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848643
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Cruelty

Fhirdiad castle had a beautiful courtyard decorated with an elaborate mosaic featuring the Faerghus heraldic gryphon, surrounded by a lush expanse of greenery of all kinds. In winter, when nothing could grow, this lush expanse was used to display ice sculptures carved specifically to impress visiting noblemen. In summer, dizzying arrays of flowers were displayed in carefully symbolic patterns.

In spring it was just cold. There were still frosts every night, and early in the morning was a bad time to be barefoot. Dimitri didn’t have a choice, though; his shoes had been confiscated after his first escape attempt. So had most of his clothes- all he had between himself and the frigid air was a thin tunic and ragged trousers.

The guards that had hauled him out there were each wearing enough furs to clothe a bear, enough that Dimitri could barely see the armor underneath. Adrestians had no cold tolerance at all.

The courtyard was also decorated with a gibbet and a chopping block. Normally kept out of sight unless needed, Cornelia had seen fit to keep it out in the open as a warning and a promise to anyone opposing her coup. Both were bloodstained beyond the hope of any attempt at cleaning.

“Oh good, you’re finally here.” A man (had to be Faerghan, he was wearing a sensible amount of clothing) walked up to them. It took Dimitri a moment to recognize him- this was the new headsman. Dimitri didn’t normally see him up close, or without his axe. “Well hurry up, let’s get this over with.”

Dimitri stared at the chopping block, then gazed out at the empty courtyard. “I thought she wanted a bigger crowd for this.”

The headsman flapped a hand at him. “Don’t worry, this is just a rehearsal. The real thing isn’t until tomorrow.”

Dimitri felt a chill go down his back. Tomorrow was... quite a bit sooner than he’d expected. Cornelia must have given up on extracting a confession from him. Either that, or she didn’t want to risk him biting another finger off of one of her torturers. Likely both. Dimitri tried not to let show on his face how much his heart had started racing, but the sharp bark of laughter from the headsman suggested that something had slipped through.

“Trying to put on a brave face, I see,” he said. “Keep that up, it’ll make a better show.”

“I don’t see why we need to rehearse this. I know how these work.” Cornelia’s reign so far had been a bloody one. One of the first things she’d done was purge out the supporters of the old regime, and she’d made a point to have Dimitri watch the executions of every administrator, official, and knight that even hinted that they thought he was innocent of the crime she’d accused him of.

“Not for you, you daft fool- for me. I’ve never cut the head off a prince before, and I want everything to be perfect. Now go on, start walking.”

The guard on Dimitri’s right yanked him forward toward the block. They only just reached it when the headsman yelled at them to stop.

“Yeah, I can already tell this is no good,” the headsman said, clicking his tongue. “You’re a mess- it looks like we just took a common criminal and told everyone he was you. We need to make you look like an uncommon criminal.” He strode forward and grabbed Dimitri by the chin. “No facial scarring, at least- seems those goons in the tower had at least a little self-control. We’ll need gloves for your hands, though, and a good cloak to hide how bony you’ve gotten.”

“If I’d been given enough to eat, there wouldn’t be need to hide anything,” Dimitri grumbled.

“I’ll be sure to pass your complaint to someone who gives as few shits about it as I do. Now, there is one matter that I should get out of the way while I have your attention. I know it’s crass to ask this beforehand, but I do want everything to be perfect for tomorrow. So, how much are you tipping me? Enough you’ll need to hand it to me before, or are you planning to just spit it out into my hand like a proper murderer?”

Dimitri winced. One of the guards snickered.

The headsman’s expression went cold. “You don’t have anything, do you?”

“I don’t, no.”

The headsman sighed and gestured to the guards. One of them kicked Dimitri in the back of the knee and shoved him down, using his bound arms to keep him steady as the other wrestled him into position over the chopping block. He tried to resist, really he did, but there wasn’t much he could do against two guards in full armor.

The headsman grabbed Dimitri by his hair and pressed his head down against the block. “You know, mistakes happen,” he hissed into his ear. “Maybe the axe misses, only catches half of your neck. It’s unpleasant when that happens, very screamy, blood tends to get just _everywhere._ Hardly a dignified death for a royal. Or, maybe it takes three, four blows for it to get all the way through. I saw one in Gautier territory that took _seven_ strikes. So you might want to find some motivation for me to make sure things go smoothly.”

Dimitri tried in vain to twist his head around to bite the hand holding him down. “You’re welcome to ask Cornelia what she did with your ‘motivation,’” he growled. “Everything I own was taken from me when I was arrested.”

The headsman stood up straight and let out an annoyed ‘tch.’ “Some royal you are.”

Dimitri flushed with anger and embarrassment. Everyone, from the lowliest criminal to the highest of kings, knew that you tipped the executioner. Even bandits would go on raids with coins tucked away in their cheeks, just in case they were captured.

Someone who couldn’t or refused to tip was lower than even a bandit, more animal than human being. His captors had already taken to comparing him to a rabid dog, and now he was going to be put down like one.

“But look, I think we can come up with something. It’ll look bad for me if I can’t make you pay up. So I’ll lend you some money to pay up with. And in return...”

He felt a hand slide up to fondle his ass. “Well, it would be a shame for _this_ to go to waste.”

“What? No!” Dimitri struggled under the iron grips of his guards.

“Oh, yes.” A knife slashed down the back of Dimitri’s pants, slicing a thin bloody line into the flesh of his buttocks. A rough hand grabbed a flap of fabric and ripped it away, leaving most of his ass bared to the cold morning air.

Dimitri kicked out blindly, hit something- armor, most likely, considering the sudden jolt in his ankle- and then a hand grabbed his foot and twisted until he cried out in pain.

“Stop struggling already!” snapped the headsman. “You don’t need to be perfectly intact for tomorrow. Maybe I’ll start cutting bits off if you don’t cut it out. You don’t really _need_ your balls, do you?”

Dimitri stilled. There was the sound of rustling fabric, then a lightening of the pressure on his back as the guards shuffled away to make room for his tormenter. One of them walked around to his front and knelt in front of him.

“You should see the look on his face,” said the guard as he reached out to ruffle his hair. He laughed when Dimitri tried to bite his hand. “Feisty fellow!”

“Don’t let him get you. The damned beast probably has rabies.”

The headsman rubbed his cock against his hole, then with one smooth thrust shoved it in.

It hurt. A lot.

It was a new kind of hurt, at that. The torturers had never done _this_ to him. They’d discussed it, sure, but for the most part they’d been more interested in playing with all of the interesting devices Cornelia had delivered to the tower. They’d especially enjoyed the stick that made him feel like lightning was running through his skin when they poked him with it.

The guard pet his head in a mockery of gentleness as the headsman moved his hips in long, lazy thrusts, but it was no distraction at all from the agony in his ass. Pain radiated up his spine with every thrust, and Dimitri soon found himself gasping in time with them. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Not the rubbing of the chopping block against his throat, not the chill radiating from the morning air, not the banter between the headsman and the guards.

(“You can use his mouth, you know.”

“Rather not lose my dick, thanks.”)

The pace sped up, the thrusts became harder and farther in, and Dimitri swore he felt something tear inside him. “Oops,” said the headsman. Dimitri could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “Looks like you’re bleeding a little. That’s careless of you!”

“Don’t tear him up too badly,” chided the guard holding him down. “He needs to be able to walk without limping tomorrow.”

“You’re a mage, aren’t you? Heal him up when I’m done.” The headsman leaned down to whisper in Dimitri’s ear. “Did those Duscur dogs do this to your old man when they killed him? They’re big fellas- I bet he would have died even if they hadn’t lopped his head off. I’ve seen it happen, you know. Bandits. They’re real sick sons of bitches.”

“You’re a real sick son of a bitch yourself.” The way the guard said it almost made it sound like a compliment.

The headsman ignored him. “You know, I don’t think we ever found your father’s head. Did they keep it? I wouldn’t be surprised- we’re keeping yours, after all. Going to spike it on the front gate for all to see.”

“Fuck you,” Dimitri snarled.

The guard in front of him slapped him, gauntlets leaving scratches on his face. “Keep a civil tongue in that head.”

The headsman groaned as he gave a particularly sharp snap of his hips. “I wish I could do this tomorrow. I bet you’d twitch real nice when you die.” He laughed. “You twitched real nice just from me saying that. Thinking about it, are you?”

He was, unfortunately.

“I’d have to have someone else wield the axe, of course, but it’d be a small sacrifice to make. Of course, we’d have to find another tip for them...”

“Give me a turn and I’ll do it,” said the guard who slapped him.

“Let’s do that, then. Just imagine it. I think we’ll use your school cloak to bind your hands. Faerghus colors, very symbolic. Put you in full princely regalia too.” The hand in Dimitri’s hair wrenched his head to the side to face the courtyard. “The crowd will be just over there. We’ve invited all the noblemen in Faerghus to come watch. A lot of them are already staying here in the castle- no one wants to miss the death of the murderer prince.”

Dimitri could almost see it. The members of his old regency council, at the very least, would be delighted; their power would disappear if he took the crown. Many had already sworn fealty to Cornelia. The lords of western Faerghus, as well, would be eager to see the Blaiddyd line gone. They’d be laughing at him for the entire event.

“Hann, you ever cut a head off before?” asked the headsman.

“Nope.”

“Oh, you are not going to have a good time, your Highness.” He let go of Dimitri’s hair just long enough to draw a line across the back of his neck with a finger. “Three, four blows.”

Dimitri shuddered. He didn’t want to think about it, but the images came to him regardless. The third official Cornelia had ordered killed, a tax collector on visit from Gautier territory, had tried to organize a rebellion against her coup. She’d ordered the axe dulled before his execution. His neck had been _crushed_ instead of cut, and it had taken several long minutes of screaming and repeated blows before he finally died.

That was the image in his head when the headsman quickened his pace, grunted, and then finally climaxed inside of him.

“Yeah, I’d say that was worth tomorrow’s tip,” the headsman said as he pulled out. “You two going to take a turn?”

“Out here in the cold? Do I look mad to you?”

The headsman snorted. “ _Adrestians._ Take him back to his cell, then.”

Dimitri tried to stand up, but his legs were shaking so badly that they couldn’t bear his weight. His guards watched him struggle for a couple of seconds before the larger of the two reached down, scooped him up, and slung him over his shoulders.

“Ugh, he’s _dripping_ on me,” the guard complained to his compatriot as they started the long walk back to the castle jail.

The other guard’s response sounded annoyed, but Dimitri couldn’t focus on it. He was finding it hard to focus much on anything.

Sensations came and went. For the most part, all he could hear or feel was the rushing of blood in his ears, but occasionally it subsided enough for him to notice something else. Talking, mostly. Gossip about other guards, jokes. Rarely, comments about him. Occasionally, a jolt or the shifting of his weight would draw his attention to the burning pain or the steady drip of blood and semen from his ass. It never was long before he faded again, however.

Then it all stopped. Instead, there was yelling. The scent of blood. He was set down, picked up, carried again. More yelling, more blood. Someone begging for mercy. He didn’t think it was him. An agonized shriek that almost certainly wasn’t him, since he didn’t think he could handle something so loud right now.

He was lifted up into the air and dropped. He landed on something hard, and unfortunately he landed on exactly the wrong part of his ass. His pained yell was muffled by a gloved hand, and in response he bit down on it, flailed his arms, and lashed out at the figure before him. It took a moment to filter through that that shouldn’t be possible, weren’t his hands shackled behind his back? By that point the man who’d been carrying him had gotten behind him on- was that a horse? Probably. It smelled like one, that was certain.

Arms reached around him to grip a set of reins, and then they were moving. Every impact of the horse’s hooves against the ground sent ripples of pain up Dimitri’s spine, and it wasn’t long before he was whimpering with each step.

“There’s medicine in the saddlebags,” said the man at his back. “Once we lose our pursuers, I can treat your wounds. Can you hold on until then?”

The voice was familiar. Where did Dimitri know it from? Could it be... “Dedue?” he whispered.

“I’m here, your Highness.”

“You’re here...” 

He faded out again, but this time he had a trusted friend with him.

**Author's Note:**

> It just figures that the first sex scene I’ve ever written would be a graphic rape scene.
> 
> If anyone has constructive criticism, I would love to hear it.


End file.
